The Game Has Begun: Upgrade
by MaryLynetteluvswriting
Summary: Waking up after a long nap - in an alley? Stranded in Amestris with only a change of clothes and a mysterious note with an address to go off of, what is our angsty teenage protagonist in for? Insanity ensues as she awkwardly tries to navigate the delicate strings of fate (and predetermined plot) of her fictional childhood heroes, unwittingly finding more reasons to stay than leave.
1. Chapter 1: WHAT THE HELL!

**Hi there, my lovely readers! Welcome to The Game Has Begun: Upgrade!**

 **To those who haven't read The Game Has Begun/Rolling Credits, hello! You have permission to skip the long note (it may contain spoilerish? things to those of you who don't know the basic plot of this) and keep on reading! 3**

 **As you all who've been around might have guessed, this is a sort of revamped version of TGHB, but with quite a few plot edits and more experienced writing (and basically all-around better). I loved writing TGHB with you guys along for the ride and I guess I ran out of ideas for RC, so I decided to work on this! I wanted to keep TGHB as the longest and possibly most dedicated piece of my work, but after looking it over I decided it'd take too much effort just to edit it as I reflected on some cringey plot decisions, so I thought a rewrite would be in order!**

 **But, as always, your beloved Lynette is in here and is in here to stay, albeit being slightly older and hopefully much less of a Mary Sue than I think my younger self made her out to be! In addition to some other changes, there will be more coarse language at least (as you guys can see, M-Rated) and maybe slightly more detailed depictions of violence, but this work will not feature any explicit sexual themes (aka I'm super awkward and took literally over 60 chapters before just to gain the courage to put a kiss in, and at 80 chapters (including RC, 91 chapters) barely even wrote a peep about anything past 1st base) so no worries here!**

 **I hope you guys enjoy TGHB:UPG, and welcome to Chapter 1: WHAT THE HELL?**

* * *

Today was a normal day.

I wiped my bleary, sleep-deprived eyes as the shrill ringtone blaring from my iPhone yanked me out of the sweet, merciful darkness of sleep. Haphazardly fumbling around for the annoying device, I managed to switch off the alarm, allowing me a few minutes of blessed silence to gather up my motivation to get out of bed.

Which took a little longer than usual, it being the last day of school after a long week of intense testing. As a senior in high school, with any energy my youthful self once had having already been stolen by the constant all-nighters, I already had a hard time getting up in the morning; a brutal week of mock exams only worsened my already heavy load.

Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed the laptop that rested on the ground next to my bed, my phone and a hair tie before emerging from my room, stumbling downstairs while trying not to trip and die and/or stub my toe first thing on an already tough morning.

I narrowed my already squinted eyes at the peek of dawn through the window over the couch in my front room, throwing down your things on the plush furniture before marching over to kitchen and making coffee in hope to take away the half-dead glaze I was sure my eyes held.

As the caffeine from the coffee - of course with a good dash of cream, because I had already long gotten over how intense and edgy I felt drinking it black - began to kick in, I picked up the pace, throwing on clothes, eating something quick for breakfast, and even cramming a little bit of last-minute homework in before my mom threatened to leave me behind as she walked out, me trailing close behind with my toes jammed halfway in my shoes and my jacket half-on, carrying my backpack and lunch on one arm.

The ride to school was uneventful, and so was school itself; my teachers apparently thought it'd be hilarious to jump right back into the normal grind after the severity of the tests they hit me with - tests I wasn't even sure I passed, which was a relatively uncommon stressor for me - and I blankly sat through all of them, doing the minimal to get by all just for the sake of escaping at the end of the day.

Of course I made it, but I didn't feel anywhere near enthusiastic as I let my body collapse into the car of the family I carpooled with. I laid my head limply against the window, my favorite beats smoothing out the lines in my stressed expression as I closed myself off from the world for a while to think.

I was in my last stretch of high school with college right on the horizon; I had my future waiting for me, arriving soon in the letters stamped with the logos of the colleges I applied to. My 17-year-old self was more than ready to leave the arduous, busy life of high school and with that leave what I determined to be the hardest years of my life. The endless nights of losing sleep, the reliance on heavy caffeine, and the constant stress of never feeling good enough would once and for all be over; and all of the other things that kept me awake at night would hopefully go with them.

Once the car pulled into the driveway of my quiet house, I quietly thanked my friends' mom who had driven me back before lugging my bruisingly heavy school bag down the stone pathway and up the stairs to the side door of my house. Ready to fall down and sleep, I walked in and dropped my school bag by the couch in the living room, leaving my headphones in as I went upstairs, not bothering to wait for my mother or brother to come home.

Once I stripped down and threw on a tank top and pj shorts, my weary body hit the mattress and I was out like a light, even the loud music fading away as I slipped into a dreamless, peaceful sleep, completely oblivious to the gaze resting on me from the shadows of my closed-off room, the green eyes unwavering like a snake waiting for an opportunity to strike.

* * *

I was brought back from the void of sleep by sunlight drilling into my semi-translucent eyelids, coloring my vision an obnoxious orange that made my head pulse slightly as I squinted, reluctantly drawing myself to sit up and shadow my eyes with a hand.

Underneath my free palm the ground felt incredibly rough, nothing like the soft purple fabric of my sheets - I looked down and my eyebrows furrowed. _Pavement?_ My eyes, sheltered from the light by my other hand, darted around to meet the sight of worn brick walls that travelled down a ways onto a busy street. I blinked in confusion.

 _What the hell?_ I thought, looking around me to find a neat pile of clothes sitting next to me, a sheet of paper on top. Grabbing the paper, I peered at it closely, but the only clue it held was an address I didn't recognize scribbled on it.

Bewildered and utterly lost to my situation, I called out a hesitant, "Hello?"

No answer came.

Getting more and more panicked as I realized I was alone and didn't know where I was, I clutched onto the clothes set beside me, eyeing them for any detail or hint to what had happened. But only a simple button-up white shirt, pair of brown slacks, and brandless pair of black slip-ons were left, clothes I hesitantly slipped on after a few strange looks from passersbys on the street a stone's' throw away.

Leaving the white shirt unbuttoned over my gray tank top, I stood up and brushed myself off, taking a deep breath and attempting to calm down. _Okay_ , I thought anxiously, _first of all, I gotta figure out where the hell I am._ With that, I tucked the paper with the mysterious address in my pocket and walked out into the street, scanning the sidewalk for someone I could ask for directions from.

The alley opened up into a bustling, fast-paced city, beautiful classic cars whizzing through the street while pedestrians strolled on the sidewalks. The fashion of those walking by seemed a little unique; while some seemed dress in a very timeless and unique fashion, others sported outdated clothing designs from head-to-toe, some to the point where my eyebrows were noticeably high on my forehead as I watched them nonchalantly walk past. The increasing number of difference to the things I was used to only made my uneasiness ten times worse, and I shook myself out of it.

"Excuse me," I said with a hesitant smile, interrupting the path of a kindly middle-aged woman on the sidewalk. She paused and gave me an inquisitive and friendly look that relieved me slightly.

"What can I do for you?" She asked in a motherly voice, and I gave her a sheepish grin.

"I'm actually a little bit lost," I said, "Do you think you could tell me where I am?"

"This is," the woman looked around a moment before motioning to a street sign, "Station Street, so we're in Eastern Central right now." My palms began to sweat as I racked my brain, trying to figure out where that could possibly be.

"Eastern Central… Central of what state?" I asked, and the woman gave me a confused look.

"State?" She questioned, and my blood ran cold. _I'm not in the United States?_

"What country is this?" I asked, my heart rate speeding up. _Please say U.S., please -_

"Are you serious?" She looked at me, shocked.

"I'm not in the United States?"

"United States? You're in Amestris, hun." After one more strange look, the woman walked away, no doubt dismissing me as a lunatic.

I, on the other hand, stopped breathing the minute I heard Amestris. After a few moments, I started breathing again, wheezing slightly from holding my breath so long. _There's no way in hell_ , I thought, shaking my head and laughing stiffly. _No way in hell, she's crazy._ I laughed harder, covering my face with my hands and leaning over a little bit before regaining my composure, chuckling uneasily the whole time.

"That's fucking wild," I muttered, gaining a few more odd looks from those passing by. I shook out my shoulders, choosing to walk in the direction opposite of that of the woman I had just encountered. I walked along, hands stuffed in my pocket with one crushed up against the paper with the address, and looked for another person to abmush, if at least to figure out where the hell this address led to.

Once I had found someone nice enough, a younger man who seemed to be in his late twenties, I got basic directions to the address scribbled on the paper - take a right at the end of the street, a left at the street lights and another left after that - and I arrived at the front of a intimidating gray apartment building, rusty brass numbers drilled into the cement that read _284_.

Looking over the steely cement walls, the worn, brown shingles of the roof, and the darkened windows, my heartbeat migrated up to my throat and I tentatively opened the door, stepping into a small, outdated lobby.

Walking up to the desk where a half-asleep doorman sat, I forced a slight smile as I took out the paper I had and set it down in front of him, jolting him to attention.

"Do you know who lives in this apartment?" I asked, and the doorman shook himself awake, picking up the paper and reading the address through tired, dark eyes.

"The tenant's rent ends this month," the doorman yawned, "I think he moved out already, but you're free to go check." My hands shook with adrenaline as I took the paper back, turning on my heel to dash up the staircase as the doorman settled himself back down for another nap.

I ran through the halls, scanning side to side for the right number. The first floor's numbers didn't go high enough, so I rushed back to the staircase, flying up the stairs and onto the second floor, going down the first hallway that caught my eye.

I almost dashed past the number when I saw it, but I skidded to a halt, nearly tripping on the old carpet in the process. Glancing back and forth between the number and the paper, I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves as I finally got the courage to land a firm knock on the brown wood of the door, a door with the dark iron numbers _239_ hanging off of it.

No answer.

I knocked again, several times, each time unintentionally louder and more desperate than the last. A furious knock from a neighboring door startled me, a muffled yell telling me to be quiet, and I shook silently in front of the silent, aged door.

I tried the handle, and the door wasn't locked.

Pushing the door open cautiously, I peered inside, taking one tentative step after another and calling out quietly, "Hello?"

No answer.

I continued calling out quietly, closing the door behind me as I began to explore the apartment.

It was spacious and completely empty, devoid of furniture, personal touches, anything that event hinted someone had recently lived there among the cream-colored walls. The living room was a blank canvas, the kitchen cabinets had been cleared, and nothing was left in the closet or under the bed.

So I sat on the floor, my back to the mattress, my only lead gone and taking one tentative step after another and calling out quietly, "Hello?"

Again, no answer.

I continued calling out quietly, closing the door behind me as I began to explore the apartment.

It was spacious and completely empty, devoid of furniture, personal touches, anything that even hinted someone had recently lived there among the muted cream-colored walls. The living room was a blank canvas, the kitchen cabinets had been cleared, and nothing was left in the closet or under the bed.

So I finally sat on the floor, my back to the mattress, my only lead gone and my mind blank. I stared at the bedroom door and all I could hear was my own internal screaming; reasonless and shrill, loud enough to block out any other thoughts I might've had… except for one.

Where, I thought, the fuck am I?

And then my thoughts caught back up to the world, reality hitting me as if I had plummeted down from space to hit the surface of the ocean.

Shaking myself out of my shocked stupor, I took a breath, alright, I may have missed something, let's go through this apartment again and a little bit more thoroughly. I stood up, brushing myself off lightly and rolling up my sleeves, my eyes scanning the room a little less hurriedly.

"I got all the time in the world," I said into the open space, eyes narrowed as if the room was intentionally hiding its secrets from me, "I'll find something." And with that, I set out to explore the room again, this time inching along with meticulous detail until I reached the bed.

It wasn't really a bed anymore; it was a hard mattress sitting on a strong - and sharp, I noticed as I nicked my ankle on it while I circled it - metal frame. Crouching down my the left side, I looked under the bed again, but again, to no avail.

I pursed my lips, trying to figure out another way someone could hide something there. A bed is like the best spot, I thought, scanning over it carefully, I know I always hide things under the mattress.

I paused.

"Under the mattress," I repeated to myself quietly, nodding as I sized up the mattress. It seemed like a twin bed but it was incredibly firm, something that told me it'd be considerably heavier than I might think, but I shrugged off those thoughts and dig my fingers into the side, pushing up with all my might.

With surprisingly little effort, I flipped the mattress off of the metal frame, the heavy bedding landing with an audible _thump_ on the other side of the frame. Walking to the mattress, I knelt down and eyed it for any odd marks or rips, my eyes finally settling on a wide tear near the uppermost left corner.

I crawled closer and opened it up, looking through the torn bedding. _There's gotta be something_ , I thought, reaching a hand in, searching around until my fingers came into contact with something hard. _Bingo_.

I grabbed the thing lightly and tugged it out, holding it up triumphantly. It was a small drawstring pouch, the slightly battered design of it seeming almost tribal in the solid lines of black running through the faded red and offwhite colors of the fabric. It felt soft, almost like silk under my touch, and it fit inside my palm. The top was tied off with yellow string, and I opened it tentatively to peer inside at the contents.

My eyes met a lock of white hair, tied together firmly around the middle with the same type of string on the bag itself. I didn't dare touch it, or dig around to make sure it was the only thing in there; it would've felt as if I was desecrating what seemed like a precious keepsake.

 _Why would this have been left?_ I wondered, tying the bag closed, _it seems too important to leave behind_. Setting the bag down on the mattress, I pulled out the pj shorts I had stuffed in one of the deep pockets in my pants, smoothing them out and using my nails to untie the knots in the drawstring that usually kept the loose shorts on my hips. Pulling it out, I strung the light pink string through the loops of the small pouch, tying it around my neck and tucking the pouch under my shirt for safekeeping.

Replacing the mattress back on the frame with a considerable amount more effort than it took to push it off, I did a once-over of the bedroom and the rest of the apartment, coming up with nothing.

 _Oh well_ , I thought to myself, sighing as I walked out of the apartment, _at least I found something_. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, making my way down the hall and two sets of stairs until I reached the lobby.

I slyly knocked on the desk by the drowsy doorman again, using his sleepy daze to get the name of the tenant out of him. Getting him to mutter the name almost too easily, I nodded and thanked him, turning on my heel and leaving the building.

 _Luka_ , I thought to myself, taking a breath, _that's a start… even though I have no idea where to look for him._ I looked up at the darkening sky, frowning uneasily. _It would've been nice if whoever put me here left me with some money instead of a goddamn trail of clues! I'm hungry and not psyched about the idea of sleeping on the street._

I shivered at the chill of the night breeze, buttoning up my white shirt in effort to conserve warmth as I strolled aimlessly down the quiet street.

The ground suddenly trembled underneath my feet and I paled, pursing my lips anxiously as I tried to ignore the quaking underneath my feet. The sky above me began to glow, and I looked up apprehensively only to meet the sight of several beams of red light rising into the sky in the distance, turning around to find more there as well.

Only quite a bit closer.

Freaked out, I stumbled in the opposite direction, the hairs on my arms raising as my mental alarms went off. _What the fuck is that?_ I paled, my quick walk turning into a clumsy jog as the ground shook even more.

My lack of fitness took me off guard, and I leaned my wheezing body against the door of a quiet building, trying to regain my breath as I looked down the street for some place to hide.

My heart rate spiked as I saw two uniformed men - some sort of foreign military or police, I couldn't tell in the dim light - emerge onto the street I was on, heads turning this way and that as if on high alert, both holding their guns down and ready. I shrunk into the shadows of the building as they came my way.

Their heads whipped around as another figure emerged from a side street considerably closer to me, intimidatingly large and clutching his heavily bleeding, bare right arm.

Everything seemed to happen almost too quickly to react; the large man rushed at the two soldiers, who opened fire on him but only managed to land one hit on the edge of his side before he was on them, touching his hands together and then splitting them apart to push one down on each man's head.

It was almost as if his touch had triggered a bomb inside each of them; they exploded, skin bursting in a spray of steaming red that the man narrowly dodged as he turned and rushed away, into an alleyway three buildings down from me.

So much adrenaline rushed into me that it almost hurt; my body vibrated and my mind ached, everything inside me screaming at me to run away.

 _No_ , my mind shrieked, stopping my instinct to run away, _no, no, no, they can't be -_

I rushed over to the collapsed soldiers, but they were no longer people any more; there was too much steam, too much red, covering what was left of their limp figures and changing the color of their torn uniforms.

My panicked eyes landed on the gun that sat right beside me, spattered with blood that began to seep into the wood of the handle. I grabbed it, too high on adrenaline to hiss at the burn of the hot metal against my hand as I stood up, turning and following the trail of the man I had seen pass.

He hadn't gone out of sight; in fact, he had slowed down by the end of the alley, no doubt slowed by the injuries that had been making him bleed so heavily.

I sprinted toward his distant figure until I was close enough for him to hear my fast footfalls over his likely pounding heartbeat; he turned, and the moment he began to bring up his hands, I closed an eye to aim, pulled back the hammer of the revolver and shot.

It hit his lower thigh and his leg buckled, forcing him to fall on one knee and let his hands drop. Too afraid to stop, I shot again, my shaking hands missing grandly as I came into point-blank range.

The air almost seemed to shiver under his tattooed hands as he brought them together, red sparks bouncing off of the gaps in his palms, but by then I had already reached him, pulling back the hammer of the gun again and shooting at one of the palms he bared toward me.

It broke the design on his hand, covering it in dripping crimson as the burst of steam he tried to blow toward me fizzled uselessly up into the air, leaving him and I facing each other among the sounds of our pounding chests, my gasping breaths and the steady drip of his blood onto the pavement.

"Damn you," he growled in a gravelly voice, his face contorting in pain.

I shakily pointed the gun at his face, right between the pained eyes that bored into me, and in that moment the old fashioned, bloodstained revolver felt too heavy for my right hand.

It was too heavy, and in that moment I realized I held an instrument of death before this man who knelt in front of me, a man who I suddenly knew.

It all came together at once; Central, the lights in the sky, the uniform the man before me wore and the tattoos inked into his palms -

I was in Amestris, interrupting first episode of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

I stared dumbly at the Freezing Alchemist, thumb slipping off of the hammer of the gun and hand unconsciously beginning to lower.

Sensing my weakness, he moved quickly, reaching up -

But someone stepped too close behind me, and before I could react, put their right hand over mine, pulled back the bloodied hammer with a white-gloved thumb, and shot the Freezing Alchemist right between his widened blue eyes.

His body dropped to the ground and I stared at it in horror, watching the light leave his suddenly empty eyes as blood dripped down from the hole in his head.

The figure behind me, a man, stepped away and I fell to my knees in front of the body, not knowing if the screaming I heard was from my throat or just from the chaotic, terrified space of my mind.

A firm hand rested on my shoulder and I looked up, meeting the one-eyed gaze of the tall, aged man with a sword at his side; a man who, if I was right, could only be the Fuhrer of this country I had unwittingly found myself in.

In that moment, I couldn't help but think that it was all just a nightmare.

"It's alright," he said, his father-like voice making my spine tingle painfully as he bent down on one knee next to me. Everything about him, everything I saw and I heard seemed so much more frightening because I knew in my bones it was all fake; the aged, kind face; the soothing voice; the gentle treatment; and the lie that everything was alright, as if I was the one who killed the man who laid dead beside me and as if I wasn't on my knees before a killer.

 _It's not alright_.

"He was a very bad man and you saved a lot of people," he said, looking into my eyes, but in my shock I knew that I had traded that bad man for someone very much worse. The crimes of the man who was gone beside me began to pale in comparison to the Fuhrer who my gut whispered to me was very, very much to be feared.

* * *

 **WHOA! Radical change from TGHB Chapter 1, right?**

 **Cmon guys, it's a little less crazy though, and what would an FMA fanfiction be without a PTSD-worthy event opening the story?**

 **Anyway, whoa! Who's this Luka character? (hint: if you already think you know, he's changed!) And what does he have to do with our beloved protagonist - Lynette, to those of you who don't know - appearing in Central, Amestris? I know those of you who adhere strictly to the manga are glaring at me right now but hey, I had a reason you'll see in a little bit!**

 **Eugh the Fuhrer gives me the creeps, especially directly after doing an indepth study of Hitler's Germany. Guns! The gun used in this chapter is a standard six-round revolver (the one with the round bullet chamber that spins), the "hammer" of the gun a reference to the metal piece that juts out by the top of the wooden grip and has to be pulled down before the trigger can be used to fire.**

 **Alright, thanks for sticking with me and don't forget to comment and follow for updates, my ever so lovely readers!**

 **See you in the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2: TATTOO, POUCH, AND THE SMILE

I leaned against the wall of the alley, my gaze lowered and my stare blank as other military officers began to go through the scene, Fuhrer Bradley preoccupied with one of them.

All I could focus on, though, was the bloodied hand that laid just outside the reach of the cover that had been placed over the now featureless body, the hand covered in the red dust of what used to be a philosopher stone, the tattoo inked into the palm ingraining itself into my memory.

 _He killed two officers right in front of me_ , I rationalized to myself, over and over, closing my eyes for a moment, _Their blue uniforms… looked too much like the one my mom used to wear._

I guessed that in the moment, when I picked up the gun, all I could hear is the question I used to blow off when I was younger; the question curious kids would ask whenever I said my mom was a police officer that went something along the lines of, _are you ever scared that one day she won't come home?_

A question that now became a reality to the two dead men lying further down, the sheets that laid over them not even enough to cover the devastation of their bodies.

I felt my throat close up and tears sting the edges of my eyes, but I quickly fought it back, pulling the jacket that had been laid on my shoulders closer as I refocused my gaze on the swirls of the tattooed hand of the man I had stopped. Everything else seemed to fade into the background until the clink of armor met my ears.

Lifting my gaze ever so slightly, I met a sight that let me breathe; standing before the Fuhrer was a tall suit of armor with eyes that glowed red and a shorter, very handsome blonde-haired boy.

 _Well, at least I'm okay enough to still be able to appreciate an attractive guy_ , I thought to myself, trying to seem inconspicuous as I stared at my fictional childhood crush and hero. _If that's really who I think it is, I'm saved and saved by a pretty hot angel._ Forcibly shaking myself out of my fangirl-induced infatuation, I chastised myself, _he's two years younger than me now, isn't that weird? And I also just killed someone - well_ I _didn't, but Bradley's gonna say I did - and he'll think I'm crazy… Wait._

I paused, my eyebrows furrowed and my gaze drilling into the ground, _if that was McDougal, he was going to die anyway – and by the Fuhrer's hand, not mine. Not mine. Why am I getting bent out of shape? I didn't even kill him -_ I told myself, but that changed nothing as I looked at the covered body on the ground and a surge of nausea overwhelmed my senses.

I quickly turned and slipped past the officers and others crowding the alleyway, only making it a few yards before I plopped down on my knees and heaved, my empty stomach clenching painfully with each surge of nausea. Balling up a fist, I hit the pavement in frustration, exhaustedly resting my forehead against the cool wall of brick in front of me as the spasms in my throat and stomach subsided.

 _I hate this_ , I grumbled to myself, and upon noticing the newfound silence in the alley, closed my eyes and added mentally, _shit._

"Are you okay?" A voice reached my ears, and I recognized it automatically. I cringed, turning away slightly in embarrassment as I took a few deep breaths in order to stabilize myself.

"If only," I wheezed quietly, taking my head away from the wall and sitting back on my heels so that I could crack my eyes open and peer at the two figures who loomed over me, one considerably taller than the other.

A white gloved hand entered my vision, and my aching body relaxed slightly just at the welcoming sight of it. I reached up a clammy hand and took it, surprised at its rigidness as I was helped to my feet. _Oh yeah, automail, right._

"Thanks," I breathed, slightly taken by the golden eyes that greeted mine. I blinked, and a tired, sheepish half-smile took over my expression as I awkwardly let his hand go.

"I'm Edward, and this is my younger brother, Alphonse," the beautiful boy introduced hesitantly, and I greeted them both with the best smile my emotionally exhausted, shaking body could offer.

"Nice to meet you guys," I said, making sure to regard both Ed and Al each in turn, "I'm Lynette." Al's red gaze grew smaller in a way that made it seem as if he were smiling, and Ed nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's nice to meet you too," Al replied, and my heart eased at his light voice.

"Please ignore," I motioned embarrassedly at the place I had just been half-puking, "what just happened, I've had a hard day."

"That probably doesn't even cover it," Ed met my eyes and I nodded gratefully.

"More than accurate," I agreed, and silence fell over us until another fellow butt into the non-existent conversation.

"Now, Lynette, you've probably had a pretty exciting day," the Fuhrer stood next to the Elric brothers, smiling in that fatherly and innocent way that put me on edge, "It's probably about time you went home for now." They seemed more than unaware of his true nature as they accepted his words easily, the elder brother tucking his hands in his pockets while the younger stood by cheerfully.

Fuhrer Bradley turned to the Elric brothers and asked, "Boys, would you mind escorting this young lady home? It's gotten pretty late and she probably wouldn't feel too safe going by herself."

 _Says someone who insists I killed a human weapon with my own hands,_ I wanted to retort as the Elric brothers agreed to the Fuhrer's request.

When all eyes were on me again, I went pale, realizing that I _had_ no place for the Elric brothers to take me to. _Oh god, how am I going to explain this? This isn't like a fanfiction where someone can just pop up out of nowhere and no one cares, I'm dealing with military and documentation and shit does that technically make me an undocumented alien –_

"Lynette?" I snapped out of my panic, my face automatically changing into a sheepish half-smile.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head slightly to ground myself, "That sounds great, actually, I'd really appreciate it." I sent a grateful smile at the Elric brothers before shifting my gaze back toward the Fuhrer who held an unsettlingly calm expression.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop by Central Command tomorrow," the Fuhrer directed at me, and I nodded hesitantly as he continued, "You'll just have to give an account of what happened for the case file, nothing to worry about. I'd like to send an escort for you in the afternoon, where are you currently staying?" A question that seemed innocuous enough to someone who didn't have anything to hide, that of which I most certainly did.

I began to panic, searching for some, _some_ kind of answer -

"Half Street," I blurted out the street name scrawled across the paper still stuffed in my pocket, the only address I could recall, "284 Half Street, the gray apartment building, apartment number 239… What time should I be expecting to leave?" The panic didn't subside, though; the fast beating of my heart was almost painful in my chest as I prayed to God the Fuhrer wouldn't notice my lie.

"Around three," he merely answered, and I nodded again, smiling hesitantly as he bid the Elric brothers and I adieu. He turned on his heel and walked easily down street alone, his slowly retreating figure gradually fading seamlessly into the dark and leaving me with the two Elric brothers.

"So," Ed started, and I looked at him shyly, "How would you get to that apartment?" I held back a smile, _they really are going to escort me home, how gentlemanly!_

I paused. _Wait, shit, that's not even my apartment! Wait, the doorman said that the rent wasn't up until the end of the month - he "already" moved out? Maybe, just maybe…_

"This way," I motioned in the direction I had come from, half-sure I had run _straight_ down the street from the building. We walked in silence for a little bit, my thoughts too absorbed in trying to formulate a plan.

"What day is it?" I asked, trying my best to seem nonchalant. I chanced a glance over at Ed, who merely shrugged.

"The 19th, I think," he answered, and I hid a relieved smile, something that unbeknownst to me Ed caught, his eyes furrowing slightly.

 _God bless_ , I thought, _maybe I can get away with staying there for a while. Besides, the doorman doesn't seem too alert and I could easily sneak past…_ I sighed and tugged on the drawstring tied around my neck, pulling out the little bag I had.

"Hey," I started, and turned only to find the two brothers already looking at me. I cleared my throat, slightly taken aback before I continued, "Do either of you recognize this kind of design?" I held up the small pouch and Ed leaned closer to examine it, unconsciously making me more nervous with every inch closer he came.

I took it off and handed it to him, hesitantly deciding to trust him. He held up the pouch with Al observing it from above, both brothers puzzling over it a little before handing it back to me.

"It looks like it could be Ishvalan," Ed said, his eyes watching my expression carefully as his younger brother hummed in agreement. My mouth opened a little and I looked back at pouch, suddenly being struck by how _obvious_ it was.

 _The colors, the white hair…_ I hit myself in the head, laughing slightly at my own stupidity, _Of course it's Ishvalan! How did I not guess?_ I looked back at the brothers only to have them staring at me as if I'd lost my marbles.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head as my smile subsided, "I just feel like an idiot for not realizing it before."

"Why do you ask?" Ed's eyes stayed focused on me, and I looked back at him, taken off guard before my expression hardened.

"Let's just say I'm looking for someone," I said vaguely, turning my gaze back forward and my jaw clenching slightly. _Someone who, at this point, I will throttle for information if I need to._ Sensing my intentional reticence, Ed fell quiet and we continued on in silence.

Once we finally reached the apartment building - which upon reaching I sighed in relief, thanking God I was able to successfully find my way back - I turned to the Elric brothers, giving them a tentative smile.

"This is the place," I said, stopping in front of the steps to the large, intimidating grey building. The brothers stopped too, and looked at me in a way where I almost reached out to them both if only to just bring them closer; they seemed distant, far away, impersonal in a way that felt quite odd.

 _Then again, I know things about their lives that they don't even know,_ I thought to myself, _coupled with the fact I made it a point to be secretive and not talk, no wonder I feel as if they're much less comfortable with me than I am with them._ I cleared my throat, hesitantly.

"Thank you both," I started, my voice emerging in a surprisingly demure and slightly ashamed tone, "I'm sorry if I haven't been very… amiable, I'm not very good at dealing with trauma and tonight has been more than enough to probably scar me for life." A smile emerged on my face instinctively, the type of smile that crosses your face when you say something so serious and full of misery and fear but you pass it off as a joke for the sake of those you say it to; to not be a burden, I smiled, even when I felt like I wanted to cry as I was faced with being alone once again.

"Are you… going to be alright?" Ed asked, his golden eyes careful and watchful.

I kept smiling, smiling being the only thing keeping my heart from spilling over, breathing in and out and in again to harden the emotional barrier that kept the wave of hot tears just behind my eyes at bay.

"Yes," I said.

"Are you sure?" Al's voice seemed just as unconvinced as his brother's expression.

"I'll be much better after some sleep," I said, waving them off, "I promise."

* * *

The minute I crossed the threshold of the apartment, successfully having snuck past the doorman and to the place that started this whole thing, I closed the door behind me quietly. My back met the door and I slid down, tears burning my eyes and my hands burying themselves in my hair.

For the first time in my life I was completely alone, broke, and had unknowingly set myself up to play a game more dangerous than I could've ever imagined.

* * *

 **Hi guys!**

 **Alright alright hear me out guys, I know it seems a littleeeee bleak right now but I got a reason for it!**

 **Also our protagonist, for the record, is clearly devastated by everything that happened (mostly because of the death of the two military policemen) and only went to the extreme because in reality 1) McDougal is a very big and scary man who 2) literally just _touched_ the guys to kill them and 3) the only chance she would've had is with a gun. **

**As for the reason, Lynette's mother is a police officer (as mentioned) and where I come from, state police uniforms are a standard blue with yellow details which do, oddly enough, resemble the standard Amestrian military police uniform. Her mother's occupation explains the reason she irrationally put herself in danger to stop someone - mistaking the officers that died for the state police she grew up around and most likely cared about, because I remind you it was nighttime, the two types of uniforms are similar, she had yet to be convinced of where she actually is until _after_ she shoots at McDougal - and also explains how she knows how to use a gun and will later be revealed to know standard self-defense.**

 **Those of you who've read the original TGHB, surprise! Luka is Ishvalen! I would've made it more of a German name (or Ishvalan, if only one of the Ishvalans had an actual traditionally Ishvalan name and not just "Scar" (description-based and not real) and "Miles" (English version of the Germanic name _Milo_ )) but I guess I just decided to stick with the old name for old times' sake. Also, who doesn't love a handsome yet mysterious Ishvalan OC? Exactly. _Everybody._ No? Just me? okay haha**

 **You're probably not gonna see him for a while so I'll leave you alone with these questions: What's his past like? How is he related to what happened to Lynette, and by extension, the yet-to-be-explained presence in Lynette's room in chapter 1?**

 **Love you guys! Drop a comment in (you guys give me life I swear) and follow/favorite this story and me as an author for updates!**

 **My lovely readers, thank you and until the next chapter!**


End file.
